Farewells
by Beertree
Summary: Takes place during TF: The Movie. Jazz and Prowl say goodbye before Prowl's illfated trip to Earth. Slash.


I stood staring at the door to Jazz's and my shared quarters unsure of my next step. I found my indecision not all that perplexing since the decision to come here had been made for me and I had not been allowed to apply the thought I would normally apply to my actions. Now, though, I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out what I was supposed to do and the emotional turmoil emanating from Jazz was making it difficult to concentrate.

I hadn't seen Jazz at all for a week, not since Prime had given the order to return to Earth for Energon. And I'd only seen him briefly before that as our duty schedules kept us on opposite shifts and only allowed for stolen moments if our paths crossed as we went about our assigned tasks.

I felt I was dealing well with this separation, this so-close-yet-so-far predicament that had been thrust upon us. I knew, though, that Jazz wasn't and evidently his distress was affecting me despite my best efforts to tell myself otherwise. And in very obvious ways, apparently, because this evening, mere hours before the Lancet's launch, while under very strict orders to have the shuttle ready as soon as possible, Ironhide pulled me aside.

Concern was etched deeply on his facial plates as he said, "Prowl, go."

I was perplexed. "Go?"

"To Jazz," he explained with infinite patience as if I was fresh off the assembly line.

"Out of the question," I said calmly and turned back to my work.

This is when he wrapped his rather large hand around my arm and escorted me to the shuttle's exit hatch.

"Prowl, you are no good to us in the state you are in. Go to him and settle it so you can concentrate on what needs to be done here."

I stared at him coolly but inside I was aghast. Was it so obvious? Was I so obvious? I turned to look back inside the shuttle. Ratchet stood, arms folded across his chest, glaring at me.

Apparently so.

I sighed. "What about Prime?"

"Don't worry about Prahm, I'll cover for you. Just don't be too long."

Another quick glance at Ratchet and I exited the shuttle with as much dignity I could muster under the circumstances.

I made my way through the launch bay with what I thought was cool aplomb, but once I was out of sight, I broke into a quick trot that would've caused heads to turn if there'd been anybody to see me.

I didn't let Jazz know I was coming and in his present state I was confident he'd not catch my intentions through our link. In short, I had a strong desire to surprise him. Not the most logical action in the universe but it would please Jazz, which, to my surprise, would please me. I pondered this strange concept as I raced, yes, raced, through the nearly abandoned Moon Base One.

I slowed as I approached the communications and monitor station and actually managed to look calm and collected as I entered. Cliffjumper was on duty. His shift overlapped with Jazz's and while Jazz was off-duty now he'd be joining the minibot before the Lancet was due to leave.

Cliffjumper looked up. Surprise at my appearance in the station was quickly replaced with relief. I gathered from this reaction that working with Jazz was becoming increasingly difficult. He nodded at me and cocked his head in the direction of the quarters Jazz and I shared, his expression suggesting that I'd better get in there quick.

So…here I stood, a veritable bedlam of emotions pouring from my bond mate washing over me, trying to compose myself so I could present a…façade, at least, of coolness.

Finally, because if I waited much longer I feared I would be swept away by Jazz's emotional tsunami, I opened the door and stepped inside.

Not without apprehension, I might add.

Jazz's reaction was much as I expected. Sitting at his desk, chin resting in his hands, he glanced over at the opening door with uncharacteristic annoyance. Upon seeing me, though, his annoyance quickly turned to surprise and then to what I can only describe as unbridled joy. These were, however, merely minor surface emotions compared to what hit me through our bond. My knees weakened for a moment under the onslaught of his terror, misery and, to my chagrin and pleasure, lust and passion, and I feared I would collapse before I was barely inside the room. I hoped my sudden weakness would go unnoticed in the dim room as I reached out to support myself briefly on the doorframe.

He leaped to his feet knocking his chair back with a loud crash, optics beneath his visor blazing so brightly as to cast long shadows on the walls. In the remarkably short time it took him to reach me I could see that the last week, no, the last year, had been difficult for him. Yes, it had been difficult for me, as well, but Jazz had suffered deeply and I was filled with shame and guilt because I'd done nothing to correct this untenable situation. I knew the brief…trysts we'd managed steal for ourselves were not enough and I could've very easily asked Prime for some time to see Jazz. I could've had Ratchet make it a medical order if Prime had proved fractious, but I did nothing because the war came first, always first.

Jazz literally fell into my arms, having leaped the last few meters in his need to get to me as quickly as possible. I staggered under impact of his body and slammed into the door behind me, which, to our great fortune, had already closed. It was a painful moment, my door wings ringing with the blow, but I managed to keep my feet beneath me as I gathered him to me.

My hands moved of their own volition to caress his smooth face just as his mouth searched my face hungrily until it found its prize. He devoured my mouth with his and for a brief, sweet moment I succumbed to his overpowering need, drowning in him. He was my beautiful, sweet Jazz and the next few hours were ours.

Yes, they were ours but they could not be wasted.

I struggled to pull myself free of his overwhelming desire and heard myself gasp as if I'd truly been drowning and had finally reached air. His mouth had left mine by this time and he was intent on claiming more and more of me for himself, moving down my chin and over my throat in the most delicious way.

No, I said to myself and tried to push Jazz away. He grumbled irritably and redoubled his efforts to sweep me away with him.

"Jazz," I whispered hoarsely. "We need to talk…"

Jazz made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He reluctantly stopped his explorations and looked at me, his mouth quirked into a slight smirk, as if I'd said the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

"Prowl," he growled, his voice husky with desire, "shut up."

Apparently, I had and to reinforce the sentiment he smothered my mouth with his again.

He was right; we didn't need to talk. We were beyond words by this point anyway.

There would be time for conversation later…I hoped.

When it became obvious to Jazz that I'd decided to give up the conversation idea, his mouth began to wander again. This time I didn't resist and let my head fall back exposing my neck to his sweet explorations. He quickly took advantage of my submission.

My thoughts began to lose coherence as he nuzzled, kissed and, yes, even bit down on every sensitive spot he could find on my throat. Again I pulled back before I was totally inundated, but this time self-preservation was the reason. I had no intention of spending uncounted hours on the floor when I had even more hours ahead of me on a cramped shuttle. I intended to be comfortable and collapsing to the floor with Jazz on top of me was out of the question. If anybody was going to be on top, it was going to be me.

Jazz caught the thought and chuckled evilly.

"Silly Prowl," he whispered sweetly into my audio sensor.

His fingers found a place where my armor plates didn't quite meet and slipped inside to fondle a spot so sensitive my knees would've given out right then and there if I hadn't been resolute in my decision.

Nevertheless, it was a close call.

"Primus!" I moaned but I gritted my mouthplates, slipped my arms around his waist and lifted him off his feet.

A sharp gasp of surprise escaped his vocalizer and then a bark of laughter as he realized what I intended to do.

"You'll never make it," he assured me in a tone so devilish and irresistible that for a moment he was nearly proven right.

I staggered under his weight when my knees began to buckle again and again he took advantage of the situation by increasing the intensity of his seduction. Not that he actually had to seduce me. That was a foregone conclusion. I just needed to get him to our recharge berth and then he could have his way.

Each step I took was exquisite torture. His hands were everywhere, finding every tender sensor he could reach from his awkward position, fondling, stroking and caressing them into such a state of stimulation that I could barely see where I was going let alone walk there. To make it even more unbearable, he whispered…things into my audios, unspeakably lovely things that he was intending to do to me once I had given up the idea of being comfortable.

Primus, he was good.

Unfortunately for Jazz, he underestimated my resolve. Plus I found this game to be so sweet…so Jazz, that I wanted it to continue forever. I believe that alone was what kept me on my feet the entire 10 meters to the berth.

Thus, I was almost disappointed when I felt the recharge berth strike Jazz's hips…almost. It had not been easy resisting his seductive ways and by the time I got him there I was nearly beyond caring about comfort, but he was not going to hear that from me. What he would find out how, though, was how much I enjoyed the trip.

Plus he was heavy.

I released my grip on him. I expected him to fall back onto the berth and he did, but he didn't release his grip on me and I was unceremoniously dragged down with him.

This was not what I intended, but I wasn't upset.

I was on top.

I was sure I didn't want to relinquish my hard won position, but we were both half off the berth. Something had to be done about that. Apprehensive that he might take advantage of my attempt to shift positions and flip me over, which he was quite capable of doing, I pushed myself back onto my feet. His response was immediate and surprising. Instead of the wrestling match I was expecting, he tightened his arms around my neck and his legs wrapped around my hips. His grip was unbreakable and I could feel the slightest tremor in his body where our bodies pressed together.

Surprised by his sudden change in demeanor I regarded him curiously. His playful eagerness had vanished. Perhaps it had only been a mask for the feelings he genuinely felt but had been unwilling to let me see.

Abruptly I realized that when I'd pulled away, something deep inside him had panicked and all pretenses that our visit was anything other than a game were dropped. I could see it in his face and I could feel it emanating from his very being.

He was deeply afraid.

And I didn't know why.

I wrapped my arms around him and murmured into his audio, "Jazz, what's wrong?"

Jazz shook his head, momentarily unable to speak, a disturbing development, indeed.

Gently and with great difficulty, I might add, for he b**was**/b heavy and was offering no help whatsoever, I managed to get our bodies onto the recharge berth. The berth was large, double-sized, an unusual touch of decadence installed by some long-forgotten Decepticon and our only luxury. A comfortable retreat that we'd rarely shared, I noted sadly.

I propped myself on my elbows while he clung to me like a scraplet and searched his face for answers. His face, though, provided no clues other than what I'd already discerned. His lips were pulled back exposing his mouth plates in a tight grimace. It was painful to watch and just as painful to feel as he struggled with the panic. Finally, he shuddered, sighing roughly, the slight tremor passing and loosened his grip on me. He didn't release me entirely, though. His head dropped back impacting the padded berth with a soft thud. He seemed to rest a moment then he lifted his head and kissed me hard on the mouth.

I returned it gratefully.

His arms eventually relaxed their grip, though his legs remained tightly wound about me as if preventing an escape. His hands slid slowly over my shoulders to caress my face with a tender touch. Holding my face cupped gently in his hands, he stopped kissing me. His lips moved gently against my mouth as he whispered, "I'm sorry, Prowl. I…"

"No," I interrupted him. "Don't apologize. I came because you needed me and because I needed you, though I was too…stupid to realize it."

He let his head fall back again and grinned at me, apparently amused by my choice of words.

"Stupid? Never. Ya just have other things on yer mind. My problem is that I have too much time ta think. And ya know how well me and thinkin' get along."

I smiled fondly at him. "Actually, I do know."

He grinned wryly at me. "Ya weren't supposed to agree," he said with feigned insult.

I laughed softly. "It's one of the reason I love you so much." Then seriously, I said, "I'm here now, though, and I want to help."

He grinned lasciviously as he said, "Oh, I know why yer here and it ain't to help."

That had been true, at first, but I was beginning to find his mood swings disturbing, both mentally and physically.

Before I could address this worry he pulled my head down and nibbled at my chin, the bite just hard enough to hurt. It sent electrical tingles coursing through my body to my feet. I stiffened and he moved from my chin to my mouth and then my nose, biting and teasing, exploring my face while his hands sought out the sensitive areas on my shoulders and door wings.

He was hard to resist despite my worries.

I groaned and then pulled my head away before I was totally lost to his ministrations.

"No," I managed to moan.

"No?" he mumbled as he strained to reach my face again.

"Let…me…"

"Ah…'k," he agreed. "Just…don't leave me…" His head fell back again and his legs finally relaxed, sliding off to my sides. He left one leg hooked about mine, though, unwilling to give up all contact.

I wasn't sure he was even aware of saying that. Leave him?

"Never, my love," I reassured him.

I slid off of him, then, taking my weight off of his chest and freeing my hands. His leg tightened reflexively but loosened when I began to nuzzle his throat. I explored his neck scrupulously, making sure I found every sweet spot before I moved on. My hands fondled and tickled the horns on his head while I kissed and nibbled at his jaw. He turned his head searching for my mouth again and I lightly, teasingly, brushed his lips with mine.

He strained towards me, and then, when he couldn't quite reach me, he whimpered, an unhappy sound that was painful to hear. I started to pull away.

"Jazz?"

He gripped my shoulders tightly, painfully, and pulled me close again. "Please, don't stop," he said plaintively.

"You have to tell me what's wrong."

"I…can't."

I pushed away from him firmly, this time not allowing him to recapture me.

"You have to, Jazz. Neither of us can go on like this," I told him my frustration making me sound harsher than I intended.

He stared at me expressionlessly and, for a moment, I couldn't tell what he was feeling. He nodded once, sharply, and I was abruptly overwhelmed by a torrent of emotions.

I realized, as I floundered in the rush, that he'd been blocking me. I had gotten a glimpse of what he was going through when I first arrived and he'd been surprised by my unexpected appearance and then again when he panicked when he thought I was going to leave him. The rest of the time I'd only been privy to his very surface emotions.

He nearly lost me then as I struggled to keep myself from being swept away with him. I needed to maintain some emotional detachment if I was going to understand what was wrong or I would slip away with him into emotional chaos and be useless.

With great effort, I managed to find my equilibrium between his swirling emotions and my calm detachment. I could now stand back and observe and analyze.

Normally, he hated it when I did this, he wanted me along on his amusement park ride of chaos and would do everything in his power to ensure this happened but it was clear he understood what I was doing. He knew that he needed me to be rational to counter his irrational feelings.

But despite his willing cooperation, I was floundering again. He was frightened, no, absolutely terrified and it threatened to engulf me, as well. I couldn't even determine what was frightening him.

iJazz, what are you afraid of?/i Asking him, though no words were actually spoken, seemed to be a simple solution.

iI don't know,/i he nearly wailed.

So much for that.

I couldn't help but picture in my mind a human slapping their hysterical comrade to get their attention and calm them. I doubted it would work with Jazz and the resulting image I receive from him looked painful, to say the least, and seemed to confirm my doubts.

Yet…

iProwl…don't go./i

He was calmer but still distraught.

iI have to. But I'll be back. You know that./i

iI…Yeah, I know that…But, I… I can't explain it. It feels like something's wrong./i

Normally I didn't give much credence to premonitions or bad feelings, but when Jazz talked about feelings I tended to take heed. To be as successful as he was, he needed to rely quite heavily on instinct and intuition. I didn't pretend to understand it, but I listened nevertheless. So I couldn't dismiss his feelings out of hand. Unfortunately, I couldn't do much about it either. Prime wouldn't cancel this mission just because Jazz was having some vague misgivings about his lover leaving him.

Oh, no, that would not go over well at all.

iI'm sorry, Jazz,/i I told him.

iI know, Prowl. I really do. I think that's why I'm so worked up./i

He was silent for a long moment. I felt the veneer of his calm waver. If it crumbled entirely I was fearful I'd not, this time, be able to withstand his tumultuous emotions. Then he seemed to lean on me absorbing my calm into him. I leaned back, bracing him, and he was able to continue.

iI just can't figure out why this is so scary this time. I couldn't talk to you about it because I knew what you would say. What you b**had**/b to say. I couldn't bear to ask it out loud and hear you answer 'No'./i

Primus, I hated this war. I hated everything I had to do for it and what it was doing to us. And I felt helpless.

I understood precisely what Jazz was saying, and he was right. There was nothing either of us could do about it. He had to live with it and so did I.

That was not at all comforting…to either of us.

iWe'll get through this,/i I told him.

iLike we always do, eh?/i

iYes, like we always do./i

He was still frightened, but now he wasn't facing it alone. His fears had been addressed and he could share them without the rejection he knew would be there if he spoke of them aloud.

I could feel him gather himself, his will, to rein in his out-of-control emotions. It took great effort but now, no longer buffeted by the storm, I could bask in the calm that Jazz created from the tempest.

Then I was back inside myself gazing into his visor with no sense of time having passed at all. It could have been a second or all night.

It didn't matter.

"Prowl," he said in a soft voice only hinting at the pain and anxiety he'd been feeling, "love me, please."

And I did. With pleasure.

He'd taught me so much over the years and I showed him his lessons had been well learned.

After the last echoes of his cries had faded, we held each other. Rather, we clung to each other each unwilling to be the first to let go. I was loath to leave and he was loath to let me go.

But we'd run out of time.

Slowly, reluctantly, we untangled our limbs. I sat up on the edge of the recharge berth where I remained immobile, unable to move any farther. Jazz took advantage of my inertia, his fingers playing delicately across my doors. I shivered slightly and reached back to grasp his fingers. I pulled him into a sitting position putting a halt to his teasing before I could again fall victim to it.

"It's time," I said cheerlessly.

"Yeah," he muttered, "for me, too. Late actually. 'Jumper is probably chewin' wing nuts by now."

I nodded but I couldn't seem to put the thought of leaving into action. I stared at his hand, fingers twined in mine, black against white, before raising it to my lips. I lightly kissed each finger.

"Now, Prowl," he said with a slight hitch in his vocalizer, "we can't have anymore of this."

I smiled at him then and nodded, not trusting my own vocalizer. Standing, I pulled him up with me. Together, hands still entwined, we made the seemingly endless yet short walk to the door. When it slid open, he freed his hand and stepped back.

"Jazz?" I questioned curiously.

"I'll be along. You get goin'."

Then he pulled me close and kissed me, a slow, lingering kiss with much promise for the future in it. Finally, regretfully, he pulled away and smiled.

"Take care of yourself," he whispered.

I touched my lips lightly with my fingertips and then touched his. "You, too."

I stepped through the doorway and the door slide shut with a finality that disconcerted me. I stood there for a frozen moment seemingly rooted to the floor. Finally I shook myself, flexing my doors to ease my tension and began another seemingly endless walk, this time back to the shuttle.

When I reached the communication room, I paused to glance around hoping against hope that Cliffjumper would be occupied elsewhere. Unfortunately, that was not to be.

I was barely inside before he was at my side hastening to keep up with my intentionally rapid footsteps. Unfortunately, he was undeterred.

"Well?" he asked.

I stopped and looked down at him silently.

"Well, what?" I answered disobligingly.

He muttered something subvocally before rephrasing his question more precisely. "Is Jazz ok? I have to work with him, you know. I can deal with a friendly, happy Jazz but a grumpy, snappy Jazz? Forget it."

He frowned up at me. He seemed to double take and really look at me for the first time.

"Primus," he groaned and threw his hands up in resignation or disgust, I wasn't sure which. He turned, shaking his head, and returned to his station leaving me to make my way back to the Lancet alone.

Ironhide greeted me with monumental relief when I finally boarded the shuttle. Obviously he had begun to regret his earlier decision when my absence became prolonged.

"Sizzlin' circuits, Prowl," Ironhide growled quietly into my audio, "could you have cut it any closer?"

"Yes, I probably could have," I replied curtly.

Taken aback by my acerbic tone he scowled unhappily at me. When I didn't offer further explanation, he studied me closely.

He shook his head resignedly. "Ah know, ah know, it was my idea." He patted me reassuringly on the shoulder.

I sagged a bit under his hand before offering him a quick, sincere smile of gratitude and said,

"Thank you, Ironhide. Your gesture was most appreciated. Even though it isn't obvious, Jazz and I are the better for it."

I barely had those words out of my vocalizer when all the monitor screens lit and Jazz, looking amazingly jaunty, appeared before me. Over his shoulder, Prime could be seen entering the comm. station. It was time to depart.

At Prime's order, Cliffjumper took over Jazz's position. His image filled the main view screen and began the countdown. At my position, Jazz appeared on my personal monitor smiling bittersweetly.

His lips moved silently. Come back to me, he said.

I will, I mouthed back.

I vaguely heard Cliffjumper announce, "Blast off."

Jazz gave me a thumb up before he switched off his screen. The shuttle roared to life around me, and I turned my attention to piloting the shuttle with the thought that this was a routine trip to Earth and that I'd be back soon enough perhaps, even, with the means to end this war.


End file.
